


the burning fall

by CrazyLaughter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Feelings Realization, High School, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLaughter/pseuds/CrazyLaughter
Summary: "But, the thing about Louis Tomlinson was that- he was quite the masterpiece. One that Harry would run back to the museum of his mind to peruse over and over again until he was locked out. He had always been. Even when he was faceless. There were so many things to learn about him; Harry was aware of only some. But, man, did he want to learn it all."(or: a High-school AU where Harry is good at daydreaming and pining for Louis.)





	the burning fall

He had always seen it coming.

Perhaps not coming in a sliver of a hurricane, but Harry definitely did consider it in retrospect. There were times when he paused during his cumbersome essay writing, dropped his fountain pen as it had started to blot through the paper and... he thought. He simply thought. His mind tended to wander to universes that refused to be parallel, but took refuge inside him. It started with a what-if and stringed it's way into a firm statement. Into a complete confirmation. After that, no matter how hard he blinked, it wouldn't go away. He couldn't really tell if he regretted it or not. Thinking had never done him any good when it bypassed the route to overthinking. He was especially talented in day-dreaming; it could make him wealthy if it were a profession.

He liked to label all of these under a patch of his brain tissues as 'DO NOT OPEN', but alas, took guilty pleasure in bringing out a lazy smile of him when he kept reaching back in there. Almost like a metaphorical cookie jar. Except, the cookies were replaced with spiders and there weren't enough figurative cobwebs on it.

This particular idea, though- took on it's own mind and got away with with him. Before he knew it, it had grown in size, taken a life of it's own and developed it's roots, only to have planted itself in the centre of Harry's chest. It dragged him around, didn't let him breath and made him choke. Made him prisoner.

He tried- he really did. To drop it away before it manifested itself in him, but the aftertaste was sour and nagged him constantly. He attempted to rid himself of it with a loop of instructions that became annoying with time. _Don't look, concentrate, don't concentrate there, stop thinking, repeat._ He just wanted to blow his stupid heart to smithereens. What was it doing? Not any good. Why? (If only he knew the answer to that.)

But, the thing about Louis Tomlinson was that- he was quite the masterpiece. One that Harry would run back to the museum of his mind to peruse over and over again until he was locked out. He had always been. Even when he was faceless. There were so many things to learn about him; Harry was aware of only some. But, man, did he want to learn it all.

　

***

　

Harry felt a pair of sharp eyes prodding at the side of his face. When he looks up, he finds Liam next to him; jotting down running notes quite religiously as the teacher was explaining something about fertilisation. His eyes tracked the board and his notebook with utmost concentration. Goddamn the fertilisation. He tried to pay attention, and failed. Who the hell cared about what happened after unprotected coitus.

Beside Liam, Louis sat on another bench that was separated by an aisle. His eyes zeroed in on Harry and when Harry peered at him, he continued to gaze back. Why didn't he duck his head, Harry thought. Why doesn't he ever?

After a few moments of painful staring, Harry blinks to avoid dropping his eyes. He flicks his head in question and raises his brows at Louis, only to receive a nonchalant shake of head before Louis glanced back at his empty notebook interestedly. If only Harry could read him.

Liam leans towards him, imperturbable face towards the blackboard. He whispered from the corner of his mouth, "Nuptial pads."

"What?"

"Styles," the teacher barks from the front. At once, his head perks up and sees her rap the duster against her table, her chalky hands gesturing for him to stand up. He does so tremulously. She was bespectacled and wore her lipstick out of line- he couldn't for the love of god, remember her name. "Are you paying attention?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

"I doubt it," she sniffs and purses her lips haughtily. Her nose is upturned, and hangs crookedly in the air. "Tell me... What is the crucial organ required for copulation to occur in frogs?"

Harry resists the urge to wrinkle his nose. He jumps when Liam elbows his hip. It immediately strikes him. "Nuptial pads?"

She gives him a dirty once-over that makes him want to cover himself, sniffs once again. "Very well, sit down," she says disappointedly, turning to the class at large. "That's right. The nuptial pads help in Amplexus, which is a position that enables release of gametes by both the frogs. The pads present on the male's fingers are usually in contact with the female's arms or chest..."

God bless Liam Payne.

Harry stumbles on his feet and falls back in his seat with a huff. Liam wordlessly passes him a piece of folded paper that has a shadow of writing on it. When he opens it, he immediately recognises Louis's dirty scrawl. **_I'm feeling a bit peckish and you know lunch here isn't going to do me good. Come to that new Indian place with me afterwards? We can get those onion samosas you love so much. My treat. x_**

He bites him lip and looks down at his lap. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. Going out with Louis wasn't a good choice. Going out alone with him- it wasn't a risk that Harry needed to take, but wanted to. Recent revelations led to looking at things in different angle and he couldn't afford to expose himself to anymore life-shattering events. The thought of fighting with Louis over the last samosa on the platter was a rather tempting one. One that lead him into the wake of daydreams.

Shaking his head to himself, Harry scribbles out a viable answer. _Sorry, mate. I've got to get that maths homework done today. You'll thank me when you copy off of it. You should ask Niall, he'd love to come._ He passes it to Liam to pass it to Louis, and tries to avoid the latter's gaze.

"Alright?" Liam whispers.

Harry nods and clears his throat. "Are we seriously learning about sex positions for frogs?"

"Mate, it's like _the_ sex position for frogs. They don't have much versatility like us."

　

***

 

His sleeves wouldn't erase the footprints on the dashboard. Liam would kill him if he found out he had his feet up. Harry drags his blazer cuff into his fist and vigorously rubs over the dust marks on the tough black plastic. It's only a moment of effort and it comes off easily.

Harry cranes his neck out of the open window to scan for Liam or Zayn. He generally walked home with Zayn, but Liam had asked for him to stay back. His scrunched face had explained as if he were to die if Harry hadn't stepped forward to comply. They had history in the last period and were let off early, but waiting for Liam and simultaneously stifling yawns was not an activity he was willing to do. Yet, there he was.

What breaks him out of his reverie is the sound of a car door opening and Liam slips in beside him, panting and beaming at him nervously. "All set, then? Should we leave?"

"We can take Zayn along with us and go. We live next to each other anyway."

Liam's mouth twists into a frown for just and moment, and goes back to being pinched. "Uh, no. He's left already. I told him to leave."

Harry snorts, falling back against his seat. "That isn't like you."

The engine starts with a purr, Liam mutters out, "And this isn't like you."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

He notices as Liam twitches when he grasps the steering wheel in his red palms and pulls out of the car-park. Students weren't allowed to bring cars, but Liam was an exceptional student. He was a topper, on the footie team, helped with social service, treated all the teachers with respect. The principal didn't take more than a smile and an excuse of the rain for letting Liam bring his own vehicle. The only thing that came with it was the fact that Liam always forgot his learner's license.

"You should teach me how to drive. Since Mum has no time. Plus, you'll get a license next year," he says conversationally.

"If we crash into something, I'm not taking the blame," he glances at Harry with a grave expression. "You should learn from someone with a license. Like Louis."

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. "He thinks he's too cool for things like that. But, have you seen him drive? The other day, we legitimately saw an old lady on a scooter go faster."

Liam doesn't reply to that. He watches the road before him seriously. The very road that is supposed to be a longcut to Harry's house. Weird. "Louis and Niall are having Indian today."

He scoffs in answer. "Is that like a big deal now? Does the whole school know?" He hugs his bag tighter to his chest when he feels Liam glance at him. "They're probably going to light a few up too. Is that a big deal?"

"He asked you. Why didn't you go?"

"How do you know that?"

"Niall told me."

Harry turns to glance at his friend accusingly. "Does nothing stay in you lot's mouth? Do you have a good five minutes to gossip before every period? Why am I not included?" He attempts a gasp. "Or is it about me?"

Liam begins to scowl, lines morphing onto his face. "He casually mentioned it, calm down."

Under any circumstance, Harry was ready to believe that sentence. But, he couldn't. There was nothing remotely casual about Niall mentioning things. He never mentioned; he explained- usually paired with a dramatic gasp or an exaggerated wink. "Sure," Harry snorts. "You both are utter gossips. Don't even try to tell me otherwise."

Liam remains passive, and it's almost taunting. Like he wants Harry to be provoked into arguing more out of him. The car jerks to a stop- in a place that seems to be a street away from Harry's house. As if that didn't add to the list of suspicions; the cursory glances during the slow drive, the cryptic comments. "That's it," Harry warns, turning towards him with narrowed eyes. "What's wrong with you? What's gotten you like this? Did something happen?"

"Why don't you answer that," Liam challenges. His brows scrunch exasperatedly when he looks up.

Harry could definitely feel an argument on the rise. There was no usual anger rising up inside him, yet he felt the urge to fight back. He never liked it when someone wasn't straightforward and on some days, Liam was as vague as anyone could get. "What do you mean?"

Liam sighs heavily and drops his head onto the steering wheel, comically startled by the honk that follows. "I'm trying to give you a hint, but you're so oblivious!"

"Oblivious?"

"Okay, wow," Liam mumbles to himself, clearing his throat. "Look, I didn't want to bring this up. But, you wouldn't either. How long am I supposed to pretend I don't... Alright. You know we don't do this thing." His jaw twitches. "I know we don't share our feelings and stuff. But, everything's supposed to out there. And- and, I want you to think that... everything's okay. It doesn't matter."

Harry can almost feel a nerve pop inside him. "I don't..."

"You really want me to- to go ahead and say it?" He receives a shrug in return. Liam then, frowns to himself. After a long static silence, his lips peel open and he winces as he says, "You like Louis, don't you."

At once, Harry flinches. It was a statement, not a question- which all the more made it worse. His mouth is dry immediately and he tries to maintain a stead breathing pattern despite his racing heart that's probably making his chest balloon. He pastes on a smile and hopes Liam hadn't noticed the momentary shock displayed on his features. "Of course, what kind of question is that?"

Liam begins to shake his head slowly, until they turn into neck snapping ones. "No. Harry, that's not what I-"

"You're an idiot, Liam," his laugh comes out hysterically, sounding scary to his own ears. His vision goes blurry. He purses his lips and tries to carve them back into a smile, in vain. "Did Louis put you up to this?"

There is a thunderous expression on Liam's face. As if it had darkened his face into a more harsh one. The puppy dog eyes were nowhere in sight and it made Harry feel worse than before. His ribs were shrinking in size and they caged around his lungs until he felt they were purple. His stomach pruned up, the taste of stale food and acid rising in his throat. His jaw was clamped shut. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to open his mouth and laugh like it was no big deal. Yet, he couldn't open it. For a mere second, he felt as though his brain had run faster than light.

"Harry!" There was a tight grip on his forearm, yanking him out of his state of dizziness. Liam's head pops in front of his eyes, becoming clear with every blink. His throat was finally widening and the air turned to breath. Though his heart was still hammering in his chest, nothing else in his body felt like it was seizing up. "Harry. Hey, Harry. Breath. Listen to me. Breath, please."

After a moment or so, Harry glances at Liam's concerned face. He cannot bring himself to talk. What was he supposed to say? You noticed, good job. You found out, splendid. This was a nice talk, goodbye forever and have a good life.

"This is a touchy subject, then," Liam muses. He nods, eyes scanning the latter's face pitifully. Pity- god, that was worse than rejection. "Harry. Harry, I want you to know- it's alright. It's okay, if you're... gay."

"Bisexual," he bites back. Like he was excusing himself.

"Bisexual," Liam repeats. He goes on speaking as if he hadn't made an assumption about Harry's sexuality and pushed him out of the closet. As if he hadn't pointed out Harry's weakness and forced him to face the music about it. "You don't need it lie to me about it. To us. Me and Niall. We know."

Harry can feel the earth shattering anger boil over the sheen of melancholy inside him. He can feel it sag out and try to burst open. He hums in reply.

However, Liam doesn't seem happy with the answer. The worry lines on his face start to look eerily permanent. "Have you talked about this to someone? It doesn't have to be me. It can be Niall. Or Zayn." He continues, "Louis doesn't understand. He's a prat, you know that. He's keeps thinking that you hate him or summat. Poor him. But, honestly, Harry. You should talk to someone. Let it all out. It's not good to keep it inside you."

Several thoughts bubble up inside him. Was he that obvious? Does he have to talk? Who can he talk to? How much did they discuss to come to the conclusion? How much did they judge him? What were their views on him now? Has he changed in their eyes? Does anything give Liam the right to talk? Can Liam talk like that when he didn't even know what it felt like? Was Liam allowed to give advice like that when he knew of nothing?

The anger indeed crashes out, and all he sees is a sharp white buzz around his vision, clouding from behind his eyes. It seems like he's foaming at the mouth, though he evidently isn't. "You have no right to talk to me like that," he grits out. The words are said to his lap, but are aimed at the other being. He can feel Liam's protest coming, but he speaks with clenched teeth to cut across. "You think I can't handle myself? You think I'm not doing well? I was good until you called me out for it."

"Jesus, Harry. I didn't mean to..."

The whiteness around his eyes was now turning into water. He couldn't cry. He didn't want to cry in front of Liam. It would make him weaker. It would look like he couldn't handle himself with just a tiny thing. A tiny thing like having feelings for somebody. He clutches his bag tight in his arms, hand slithering to the door. "No one ever does. No one ever means it," he says hysterically and prays not to burst out crying.

Liam's ashen face doesn't stop jerking back and forth in shakes. "No, I'm so sorry, Harry. I just want you to be okay."

Harry finally looks up, eyes a stormy grey as they land on the other pair. "Screw you, Liam Payne," he snarls. "You don't know anything. Stop acting like you do." The need to tear out the gearstick and break it, becomes larger and larger. "I'm so tired of this. I'm so tired of myself and you and Louis. Just. Just get lost. The lot of you. Stay away from me. I'm begging you."

With that, he flings the door open and jumps out. His feet lead him faster and faster and faster away from the car. "Wait, Harry," Liam calls out through the open window.

Harry throws a 'V' back at Liam without turning around, his legs still tripping away. " You won't ever get it out of me," he says over his shoulder. "Not without alcohol. For the record, I'm never going drinking with you again."

Then, he starts sprinting. Away, away, away. His legs carry him all the way home, body growing heavy, eyes growing heavier with tears. He tries not to feel them whip against his face as he runs.

 

***

 

Louis. Feelings.

Harry had always felt these two were connected. Whether they were (once-upon-a-time) platonic or not. He could feel his lips tug into a smile when Louis laughed or his heart plummet into his stomach when he saw Louis's grave expression. It lead all the way to Harry not being able to associate them separately. They'd become co-dependent in his head, even when he didn't want them to. Thus began the journey to Harry's crisis.

He did his best to ignore that and continue smiling like it wasn't bothering him and weighing down his brain. Sometimes, it didn't work out. It would hit him back with a punch. Most times it did. He never felt triumphant over it, though.

There were certain things that he couldn't ignore despite anything. Things about Louis that he didn't want to catch onto, but always did.

Louis's eyes turned gun-metal blue when he was happy, not because you could see them. When Louis smiled, his eyes curved into slits, crow's feet sat at their sides. There was a tiny mole just above his upper lip, that folded when he smiled. He was certain not even Louis had noticed it.

At moments of stress, Louis's body was the most relaxed. Like he was helpless, like he couldn't do anything about what was happening. Like he couldn't change anything. Louis hated that. He hated that he couldn't something to make a situation better. Harry knew that.

His hair- once stuck out as pine needles, had transitioned into a soft brown curtain that draped around his ears. Harry had watched as a wide-eyed fourteen year old, and two years later, he looked at the eighteen year old as if he'd been recreated from sun dust. Over the years, the vessel around Louis changed, but to Harry he was always the boy who'd taught him to read a protractor.

And then; there were things Harry wanted from Louis. It was a whole different chapter.

He wanted more than anything to reach out in middle of nothing and just touch Louis. Skim his fingers down Louis's temple, brush his thumb under the thin, veiny skin under Louis's eyes. Pinch the cold tip of his nose. Trace his curvy eyebrows. Smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

Under that category, there were more. Louis had cute ears. They hardly showed and all Harry wanted was to push the soft hair behind them and grip them lightly. He wanted to drag Louis in by his cute ears and kiss him. Kiss him till he saw light behind his eyelids and till there was no more air in his lungs. He wanted to bury his fingers in that hair and let his hands get clammy. He wanted to nose along Louis's warm neck and feel the rumble of his giggle. It wasn't sexual, but more sensual.

Then, Harry would jerk up when Louis would wave his hand in his face with a frown and Harry would realise it's all stupid, so stupid and plaster on a smile that seems convincing and shake his head. No, I was just thinking. Not thinking about you, he tries to show. He'll try not to punctuate his stare at Louis's face again. And he'll fail. Again and again.    

 

***

 

Three days later, Harry is awoken by an insistent buzzing by his ear. He mumbles incoherently into his pillow and smacks his lips together and palms beside his head for his phone. He's nearly about to shout the other person's head off. If he had that much energy, he would. Instead he settles for a groggy hello into the receiver once he accepts the call with his eyes closed.

"Harry, mate," Niall chirps up. His demeanour is entirely too bright for so early in the morning, it makes him sick. "What'chya doin'?"

"Sleeping. Before you disturbed me," he grumbles.

"Nothing productive, then. I predicted that," Niall replies airily. If Harry could reach through the phone and clock him, he definitely would. "I need help with my physics homework."

"By help, you mean do it for you, amirite?" 

"Precisely," Niall says shamelessly.

Harry begins to curse, but cuts himself off to ask, "Ni, you wanna do this right now," he pulls the phone away from his ear to risk a glance at the lit up screen. "At seven in the morning on a Saturday? Don't you usually wait until Sunday evening?"

"I have plans of sneaking out tomorrow," he must have sensed how Harry raises his eyebrows, since he answers, "I'll tell ya about it later. But, now. I'm hungry and I need to- we need to do homework. Maccy D's in half an hour? You can buy me breakfast."

"I can buy you breakfast?"

"Why, Harry, you gentleman. Of course, you can buy me breakfast. Such a chivalrous young man. I wonder where people like yourself have vanished to."

Harry tries to roll his eyes through his squinted lids, shaking his head. He was supposed to be used to Niall's antics. It has been nearly four years now. But, he isn't. "You know you can come over, right? Mum always makes more than we can eat. She loves it when you polish off everything on the table; it does things to her confidence."  
   
"Like you said, seven in the mornin' on Saturday. I wouldn't wanna put poor Anne through the kitchen works now." He laughs when he hears Harry scowl. "Alright, then. Half an hour. I'll still look at you the same way if you don't shower. Don't even think about not coming. I'll come by to drag your arse out if you don't. Ciao," with a jolly note, he hangs up.

There was no changing the guy. Harry mutters more nonsense to himself and saunters into his bathroom. After ten minutes of letting the toothbrush hang in his mouth while dozing off, he changes out of his old boxers and goes downstairs. He shoulders a bag, leaves a note for his parents, grabs a pear and leaves the house as quietly as possible.

Niall is already waiting in a corner booth at McDonald's. He's already bought himself a chocolate muffin, pancakes and syrup. He is thoroughly working on a hash brown that looked like it needed saving from Niall's razor like teeth. Harry waves hello to him from the entrance, buys himself a toffee latte and slides in beside the other boy.

 "I thought I was supposed to buy you breakfast?"

 Wiping away the grease around his mouth, Niall shrugs, "I thought I'll let you off this one time," but he quickly changes rhythm by batting his eyelashes in a way that's supposed to look flirtatious, but ends up being laughter-inducing. "But, if you really want to, you can. I won't stop you."

Harry shakes his head with a slight grimace of a smile and brings his bag to his lap. "I would need to start working double shifts if I had to make the money I require to feed you."

"Speakin' of which," Niall cuts between. "What about that job you applied for? For cleaning pools?"

"I dunno, man. Nobody wants a sixteen year old kid to meddle with their things. Plus, the flyer advertising thing didn't work out. I might have to try for the bakery job. Mum knows Barbara. I think I'll get that one."

"Cheers to that," Niall's muffled voice garbles out, his half eaten hash brown raised in the air as if it were a toast.

Harry hums, reaching into his now open bag and dragging out a large physics reference book. "Shall we get started?"

"Get started on what?" He brushes off the crumbs in his lap. "Right. The homework. You go ahead, I have other things to do."

Harry sighs when he sees Niall attack the pancakes viciously. "Alright. You're free to copy off after you're done." Niall mutters something like 'what a gentleman' and goes back to munching.

Around an hour and a restroom break later, there's comparatively more people in the restaurant, just a little more buzz that's enough to sound like a peaceful Saturday and enough to distract Niall from electric dipoles. At the table next to them, two girls -one with long blonde hair and the other with a septum ring- continue to gawk at them. With Niall encouraging their looks with a simpering look and calls out "I'm Irish", Harry left to calculate his physics sums to himself, muttering bitterly. He was completely blank about to do. All he wanted to do was hide under the table. He didn't understand the supposed appeal of the Irish. Or if he was supposed to be the loyal wingman.

 At some point, Harry drops his pen and lets it roll into the bind of the notebook. When he looks up, Niall is still eyeing the girls -who have now turned from humans to beets- and languidly eating what's left of a melon bag. Again. The appeal there wasn't visible.

"Niall. Ni-all. Niiiiiiii. Aaaaaaal. Horan. Niall Horan."

 Niall pauses to give him an unimpressed look. "What?"

 "I'm stuck," he gestures to the textbook in the middle of the table, then to his notebook. There are so calculation scribbles around the margins of his notebook, that Niall's plain unwritten pages made it look jealous. "I'm not getting this one. See if r1 plus r2 is eight and r1 multiplied by r2 is fifteen, how do I prove the answer?"

 He receives a shake of Niall's head. "You're asking the wrong person, Harry. You do know that I called you here to copy off from you, right?"

 

"Right," he murmurs, eyebrows trembling.

At once, Niall's attention on the girls has shifted. He sits up straighter and tilts his head in question, eyes serious. "Call Liam," he deadpans. "He'll know," he adds after a long while.

"I-" Harry stops, clearing his throat. He'd been ignoring Liam discreetly from Thursday. He had managed to avoid conversation when the four of them were together, made sure the two of them were never alone and had even walked in another direction upon spotting Liam. He himself couldn't tell if it was his ego or if he was still irked over their exchange, or entirely ashamed of himself.

"Is there is a problem?" Niall asks, his gaze is sharp like he can see right through Harry. It makes him shiver as he shakes his head in denial. "Then, go ahead, call him."

He certainly couldn't tell Niall what had happened, (though he had an inkling that they had already shared it amongst themselves) at least not explicitly. He didn't enjoy discussing his problems to somebody other than who he was having them with. Which only meant he was to talk to Liam at some time or the other. They couldn't end a friendship over something so stupid like Harry's dramatics. It was inevitable that they'd talk. He purses his lips and produces his phone.

The dial tone begins to become a menace with his due anticipation before he has to hold in a gasp when hears Liam speak. "Harry? You're calling."

"I am," he answers back awkwardly.

"Oh, erm." Even through the phone, Harry could feel Liam turn red. "Did you want anything?"

Harry clears his throat. He should stop doing that, especially with Niall watching him like a hawk. "Right, I- er. I had a doubt with one of the question in the homework. The physics homework. And er, Niall doesn't know the answer too."

"Of course, Niall doesn't know the answer," Liam mumbles. "Well, I finished it yesterday and I have a couple of doubts too, so...should I come by in the evening? Mum wanted your brownie recipe too."

For a split second, Harry wants to tell him that it's okay and that they can meet up in school and do it. But, it would be dismissive. After all, it sounded so much like a truce, something like a smile was itching in his face. "Sure," he says instead.

"Wonderful," says Liam a little too quickly. "Alright. See you in the evening? At six?"

"Sounds good."

He's about to pull the phone away from his ear and hang up, before he hears Liam call out his name. "I'm sorry for that day," he says before Harry can get anything in. "If you don't like talking about it, it's fine; I shouldn't have forced you or come onto to you like that. We're good, right?"

 It takes Harry a long time for him to open his mouth again. "Yeah, we're good."

 When he finally hangs up, Niall is grinning with sunshine-flossed teeth. He buys Harry a blueberry muffin and the physics books on the table are long forgotten.

 

***

 

Anathema.

 When Harry had come across the word, he paused and just looked at it. He mouthed it to himself over and over again. Anathema. _One who is cursed_ , he'd learned that it meant. The first thing -or first person rather- he thought of was Louis. Not because Louis was cursed or anything, but he reckoned he himself was.

 He refuse to acknowledge that he saw Louis in a light that he didn't allow himself to. The more he stubbornly pushed it away, the more it built itself inside his head. Soon there was a nest somewhere inside him, more twigs adding everyday. He hated it. He hated the fact that it would melt his insides like wax and make him smile sometimes. He didn't want to smile over it.

But, then again, there was Louis. Louis wasn't part of the curse. If anything, he could be the sweetest poison that had ever occurred to Harry. He was possibly the best thing the world deserved- perfect amount of evil and soft happiness. Louis was his large heart. He was the bright smile he gave when he spotted children. He was the warmth that supported anyone, he was the mischief from the wrong-gone pranks. He was the shoulder he gave up for comfort, with even a little hesitance.

 Louis was all the things everyone needed, and everyone wanted. He was everything packed impossibly into that tiny perfect exterior. At times, it was difficult for Harry to comprehend if this was his definition or everybody's. But, he didn't care in those times. He couldn't take his eyes away, and he didn't bloody care. 'Curse' was a word that had no business to have any affliction with Louis. Not at all.

 It bothered Harry till he stumbled onto another word. It was simply fitting and it made him feel like a puzzle had been put into place with the word.

 

 Panacea.

 

_[pan·a·ce·a (n): A remedy for all diseases, evils, or difficulties; a cure-all] _

 

***

 

 A Cheeto flew from somewhere and bonked Harry on the nose. He laughs to himself, picks it up from the book lying in his lap and pops it in his mouth.

 "Totally not true, mate," Niall interjects. He had monopolised the bowl of Cheetos around half an hour ago. The lower half of his face was peppered with orange dust and Harry pushed down the urge of reaching out and wiping it with his sleeve.

 "Yes, true," Louis protests back, his eyes are whimsically wide and Harry can't help but be entranced by it. "She does have a better set than anybody in Year twelve," his lips are on the brink of spilling out a laugh. "Girls and boys, that is."

Niall lets out a brash laugh, nudging an answer out of Liam. "Louis. It's obvious that Gerty has a better pair."

 "Oh shut up," Louis snaps playfully, he turns to his left. "Harry, you tell me. Does Melanie Potts have better Bristol bits or Gertrude Miller? Support me here, will you?"

 Harry rolls his eyes despite his smiling mouth. "Lads, we have to study. We have a maths exam in three days, remember?"

 Louis swats at him with a pen that had been lying next to him. "Shut up, you! We all know that you're going to pass your sheet to us during it. I have faith in you, Harold. And my cheating skills," he grins mischievously. "No, but, tell us. Melanie or Gertrude? Melanie, right? Tell Liam he has bad eyesight. He's comparing a clear D to a C."

 "Bugger off!"

 Harry shrugs in answer, "I dunno, man. I'm more of a bum person."

 At once, all three of them let out exasperated sighs. Niall even buries his face in the Cheetos bowl. "You're such a cabbage, Harry. C'mon, just pick one."

 "You mean, two," Harry smirks.

     Everyone else in the room lets out a collective groan. "That was your worst," Niall informs.

 "Alright," Harry intercepts defensively. He glances at Louis and then at Liam, they look at him competitively, eager and leaning towards him. He waits just a theatrical moment before he words come through his simper. "I'm going to have to go with Melanie. She... um, she's well endowed and. They're both equal sized."

 Louis yelps out in victory, flying off the floor for a brief moment before joyfully outstretching his palm out for Harry to high-five, and doesn't care when he receives an imperfect one. "See, I'm right," he boasts. "I'm as queer as clockwork orange and even I could tell." He continues to whoop, squirming in his seat, dismantling all the books from their places. "Bow down to me." Niall cheers and stuffs his mouth with more Cheetos. Harry tries not to smile. 

 "Oh shut up, Lou," Liam interrupts crossly. There's an irritated furrow to his brows, one that symbolises the commencing of an argument. "It's not like you've felt them."

 Louis stops celebrating and sits down. One of his eyebrows raises artfully. "And you have?"

 Hardly a second later, Liam's face is painful shade of red. "N-No," he stutters after a long silence.

 "Liam Payne, everyone," Louis announces to no one. Harry should stop him. Liam looks like he was going to vomit a clump of curses and Louis's mouth wasn't stopping it's run. "All mouth and no trousers."

 That right there, is a low blow. Especially to a man's ego. Or particularly Liam's ego. Liam turns an even darker red, almost like he was a breath away from blowing steam through his ears and mouth. "Hey! You-"

 "Shut it," Harry says loudly over the protests. "All of you, just shut up. Even you, Niall, you're chewing too loudly." He frowns at all of them, turn by turn. "This is wrong. You don't go objectifying women like that. They don't like it. They don't talk about what's down our pants like we talk about what's under their shirts."

 Niall snorts and a little bit of orange dust flies up. "Harry, you're such a-"

 "Harry's right," Louis cuts across bluntly. He smiles at Harry disarmingly, eyes impressed. He reaches across the books between and pats his cheek. Harry can almost feel the heat of them as he pulls his hand away. "Our little angel, keeping us in check."

 For a simple second, everything is perfect. Harry looking at Louis, Louis looking at Harry. Perhaps, the world didn't exist in that tiny amount of time. Perhaps, Harry could reach out and grasp this moment and hold onto it when he was feeling low. The smile stretching his lips doesn't feel wrong or stolen. Louis's hand was paused in the air like he wanted to reach out poke Harry's dimples. He hadn't done that in years. If only he would do it just this once... but alas, the moment is broken when the bowl of Cheetos is upturned over Louis's head. Tarnishing the silence is Liam, his cackles resonating Harry out of his daze, as well as Niall's verbal egging.

 "You little-" Louis begins to laugh and his arms spring out to tackle Liam to the floor, pinning the latter's to the carpet. He brings one arm back and dusts his hair at Liam's face. Harry doesn't stop smiling; maybe this moment was perfect too. With Liam giggling and coughing, and Louis being his usual stupid self and Niall cheering in the background. He could remember this too.

 Five minutes later, Louis stands up with his bag slung around his shoulder. He tries to shake away whatever's left of the dust in his hair and grins. "Alright, lads, I'll be off, then. I'm charge of putting the twins to bed this week. You know little girls, they want a bedtime story, a big brother hug and all that." He turns to Harry as he walks out, his hand coming up to ruffle his hair. Harry revels on it, but hopes it's not out of brotherly affection. "See ya, Harry. Study for the test, I'm depending on you." And like that, he's gone.

 Just as the door clicks shut, Liam relaxes back onto the floor with a grunt. "Now what do we do? I don't feel like studying," he turns to Niall. "You mind if we stay? I already told mum I might not come home."

 Niall shrugs in reply. "Me da won't be home for another two days. The only restrictions I'll be havin' is to not disturb Greg," he raises his eyebrows expectantly, giving them a twisted smile. "If you wanna do something stupid, or something... scandalous, today's the day."

 Liam and Harry share a confused look. Harry doesn't know whether he likes this or not, he turns to glance at Niall. "What is your idea of scandalous?"

 Niall's smirk grows larger. "How 'bout we raid me dad's liquor cabinet?"

 Liam's face immediately morphs with concern. For a mere second, he seems wary, but it vanishes with the appearance of mirth in his eyes. "And if we get in trouble?"

 "Da won't mind. He just says I have to handle me hangovers on me own," Niall explains. The smirk has now spread into the apple of his cheeks and is filling into his eyes. "What ya say, Haz?"

 He really shouldn't do this; it's irresponsible and it's a school night. His mother might let him and he did have a spare uniform in one of Niall's drawer. The only possible consequence would be dealing with the headache in the morning, which could be taken care of by tea. After a long moment and continuous peering from the other two, Harry sighs. "Fine. Let me talk to mum."

 Much to Niall's delight, they actually raid the cabinet, trying a bit of each. Niall hands Harry a whole bottle of green apple vodka and decides that Harry deserves all of it. Liam gags at every sip of gin, muttering that it tastes like something from a chemistry lab, but nonetheless, doesn't stop refilling his glass and diluting it. Niall makes his own strange concoctions of fruit juice, rum and vodka and downs them like he didn't have to wake up by tomorrow.

 After a while, Harry sets his glass down. The bottle is almost halfway empty and he smiles eerily at it, then glances up at them with squinted eyes. "You should turn off the lights," he suggests. The air is swimming in waves around him and his eyes feel like they're being pulled back into his skull. "It's too bright. We should. We should, y'know, I dunno, I dunno."

 "What are you saying," Liam laughs, he says to Niall, "Lightweight, this one."

 "Who you calling lightweight, huh? If anybody's heavier than you, it's me," he fires back. He feels like his brain has shrunk in size and is floating around in his skull. "My brain is floating."

 "Is it, now?" Niall says.

 Liam and Niall are looking at it him as if he was a wonder of the world. "I'm a wonder, aren't I?" He asks them.

 Niall laughs in reply. Whether it's with him or at him, Harry cannot tell. "Ya certainly are, Harry, old friend."

 "You're so nice, Niall," Harry squeaks out. His voice is funny. It sounds like it's coming out of a pencil sharpener. "I could kiss you. I should." 

 Liam's face is red. Like a rose red, not a tomato red. "You should, Harry. Look at him, he wants it so bad."

 Harry grins to himself, flies from his seat and grabs Niall by the arms, ignoring the string of shouting 'no's falling from the latter's mouth. Niall goes cross-eyed as Harry leans forward and sloppily presses his lips to the corner of Niall's mouth briefly. Niall in turn, lets out a shrill scream and scrambles back, hugging his own torso. "Oh no, that was my first boy kiss. Harry stole my first boy kiss. Oh no. Oh my god," he mutters to himself. His eyes are panicked and unfocused.

 At this point, Liam is heaving from his aching laughing, clutching his belly and curling up on the floor. Harry smiles coyly at the Irish boy. "You're funny, Niall. But, you're a bad kisser."

 "Cor blimey, I'm a bad kisser," Niall swears. He glares at the boy on the floor. "But, Harry, Liam's a better kisser, you know?"

 Liam freezes, wide-eyed and sits up immediately. 

 "Really?" Harry slurs at Liam. He must not be, he thinks to himself. Liam wouldn't be a good kisser. He was probably a slow kisser, like how girls liked it. He wouldn't kiss Harry the way he wanted him to. "Naaaaaaaaah," he says suddenly. "Liam can't be a good kisser."

 He swears he sees Liam breath in relief. However, Niall is still curious. "Who do you think is a good kisser? Well, besides me?"

 "Zayn," Harry blurts out.

 "Zayn?" Liam repeats.

 Harry nods profusely. "He has nice lips. When I first met him, I thought he was a girl. His lips are very pouty. He'd be a good kisser. If he tried. He wouldn't try, though, would he? He has high standards."

 "You are high standard," Liam protests.

 "Me and Zayn," Niall says with a laugh. "Who else?"

 Harry can't possibly think of anybody else. There was this cashier girl in the sixth lane at Tesco's. She had light eyes and dark eyeliner, kissing her had crossed his mind once. And then there was a girl in Year Ten that always winked at him in the hallways. There was also one of Liam's footie teammates that he couldn't remember the name of. But, all of these crossed each other out when it came to the ultimate answer. These were passing clouds and they were nothing compared to the embodiment of the sun. "Louis," he says finally.

 At that, Niall and Liam go frigid. They stop to exchange a glance before Niall speaks. "Louis?"

 "Yeah," Harry says. He doesn't mean to sound dreamy, but he does. "I want to kiss him sometimes." He tilts his head at them. The two of them appear as four and he blinks. "Is that wrong?"

 Liam jumps into reply. "No, of course not."

 "I feel like it's wrong," Harry reveals. He looks at his hands sitting on his lap. They look yellow and it doesn't stop even when he blinks. "I like girls and I think boys are fine too. But, Louis...I don't want Louis."

 "But, Louis is a boy, too, right?" Niall inches forward and pries Harry's hands away from his face. He hadn't even noticed he was scratching his face red.

 "No, he isn't," Harry says slowly. His voice is now low and murmured. "He's not just a boy. He's... He's the bloody sun. He's the sun packed into the body of a boy."

 Liam shuffles closer to him, frowning like he might cry. "Oh, Harry."

 Harry shakes his head, he can't breath. He feels like the alcohol he had been drinking was filling his lungs instead of the air. The overwhelming urge to cry hits him hard, with something that feels like a punch, the tears fall. His heart sinks in his chest. "I don't want to want Louis. I tried, really," he lets out a sob he didn't know he was holding in. His vision is completely blurry. "I swear, I didn't mean to... I didn't want this. I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask for him. I didn't," the rest of his words drown out into sniffles.

 Niall wraps his arms around him, and another pair -Liam's- join them too. It can't better than this, Harry think. It can't get more miserable than this, either.

 

***

 

Harry had always known that he could possibly play for the same team. Since he was aware of the LGBT community, he saw everyone in a new way. He'd smile when he saw two girls sharing a milkshake, or when he saw another man pick out skirts for himself. He wanted to congratulate anybody that came under the big rainbow umbrella. It was all fascinating when he'd first learnt about it, and it never got old.

 So, when he had come up with his own theories and concluded that he could like boys too, he liked it. He was sat under a tree in his garden and doodling next to a bunch of words he'd written for a song, before his pencil punctuated on it's tip and his brain had come to a stop before the word 'bisexual' had cleared the fog in his head. He wasn't shocked, per say, more like in peace with it.   

 Mostly, he was proud of it. He was so proud of it, he'd come out to Niall over the phone just a few days later. Niall, of course, had froze and went back to talking about the upcoming footie match. It was his way of approval, and it lead Harry on with more confidence. It had come to a circumstance where Harry was bursting to tell a salesperson when he'd gone shopping.

 What didn't make sense was the fact that when he was so comfortable with his sexuality, he cowered away when his heart had rediscovered Louis.

 Again, when he figured out he had feelings for Louis, the first thought that came to him made his mouth go dry. He should die. The second thought made him even worse. He should kill himself.

 The idea of being a bisexual seemed amazing theoretically. So many options, he could like anyone with no boundaries. But, when it came to practicality, he couldn't bear to think of himself in such a position. He loved that anyone could love whoever they wanted to. He couldn't, though. He didn't want to. Perhaps it was the pretence of knowing he had females to go to, and males could be an occasional. Louis was not what he expected with his latest epiphanies.

 But, then, again. Louis wasn't what anybody expected.

 

 ***

 

It was just a couple of weeks after that, Harry was slowly adjusting to the fact that he'd shown his weak side to his friends. Niall and Liam were cool about it, though. For most, they didn't bring it up and sometimes Niall even went as far as teasing Harry about it when no one was around. Yet, the pang of frustration rang through him that they knew. They knew now, and they could see right through him. He doesn't remember the exact few words he had said that night, but does commemorate that he had cried into someone's shoulder. He never did anything subtly- whether it was a crush or a confession. He hated that about himself at times. What came out of it? Niall and Liam exchanging glanced over his head and the overbearing protectiveness.

 The only thing he was thankful for was that Louis wasn't there. Thank God he had errands to do. He can't imagine what he would've done; what would've happened if he opened his loose mouth and babbled like the idiot he was, in front of him. Would they stop talking? Would Louis abandon him? Would the other two (and possibly Zayn) take sides?

From what he'd been observing, Niall and Liam were already making sure that he didn't make unnecessary chit chat with Louis. Like wrapping him up in bubble wrap and preparing him for the blow. Like they didn't want him to expose himself. They wanted his best of course, but he was beginning to catch the ends of Louis's frowns when Liam or Niall led Harry away on the hallway. They'd been surviving on stilted texting of emoticons and small talk in the morning. Harry couldn't tell if he felt safe or not. He should be grateful for friends like that, but at this rate Louis -even as thick as he is- was bound to put it together and figure it out. As far as Harry's optimism went he knew if anything went wrong, he had only a couple more months before he could break out of college and enter uni. He would meet new people and Louis would simply become a ghost in the back of his head. There would be studying and booze and girls and boys, he wouldn't need Louis. Or he could stop wanting Louis by then. But, then again, Louis and him had applied to the same places. He had to figure out another way; probably end up going to different places altogether or just ignore each other on campus. He could cross that bridge when he got to it.

 So, here Harry was, seated at a chippy. A tray of fish and chips sat gloriously before him. Even with it's golden coat of breadcrumbs, Harry couldn't help but pay attention to his unresponsive phone in his hand. He'd been there for fifteen minutes, having been already late and it seemed like Liam and Niall were a no-show. They hadn't even messaged him of their excuses. He was starting to look like an abandoned fellow on a date and was already ducking gazes from the waiters.

 "Harry!" His name being called pulls him from being worried.

 "Louis," he notices, watching the other lad slid into the cushion seat across him, shrugging off his coat and scarf. There was a sharp shiver that ran up his spine; it had nothing to do with the cold. He finds his words as he watches Louis rub his palms together. "What are you doing here?"

 As far as Harry was concerned, the three of then were supposed to go for a small lunch and probably visit the skate park right after, but Louis came nowhere in that equation. With only equals to Harry having a low-key freak out. Or a low-key squealing session. It's only proved right when Louis tilts his head at him, hair shabby around his ears and narrows his eyes. "Niall texted me about a sudden plan of lunch. I was bored so I thought I'd swing by."

 Harry tries to ignore his body thrumming pleasantly with excitement, though the doubt of why Liam, or Niall not mentioning it grew bigger. He felt his chest muscles spasm with the need to jump out of happiness. "They didn't say you'd come."

 Louis's face drops into a disappointed one. "Oh, erm. Did you not want me to come?"

 "No!" Harry mentally notes to slap himself later for replying so hastily. "It's a good surprise."

 "I'm glad you think so, Harold," Louis relaxes into his seat just as a waiter comes along. He orders a coke  and turns to Harry once again- who'd been greatly disturbed by the waiter's cheeky smile. So, basically, everyone around did think he was about to be stood up. And that Louis was his supposed date. Wonderful. "So, what's up with you, mate? Haven't see you properly in a while. It's homework in the mornings and that's it."

 Before Harry can shrug in reply, the same gleeful waiter comes with Louis's coke and places it next to where Louis's thin fingers are entwined on the table-top. Almost immediately, both of their phones go off with a message tone. Louis plucks his out, skims through and glances up at Harry. "Liam says he had to go for a check-up. Niall says he's grounded." He snorts. "Very coincidental, how they both texted at the same time."

 Harry's brain short circuits for a second, everything turning to static. He can feel himself pale. He produces his own phone from beside his lap, scrolling through it while trying not to get grease on it. 

 

  _ **Lima Bean (1:22 PM):** I'm sorry, Hazza. This is for your best. We've been thinking and I think we've been wrong by boycotting the subject. But, you must do this. Please forgive me. It was Niall's idea. :((_

  _ **Nialler (1:24 PM):** look this is ur chance. get it off your chest, you clot. u won't regret it. I know he feels the same. best of luck, just do it. xx    _

  _ **Nialler (1:25 PM):** If u want to scream at us were at li's. message us if u need help. if ur comin over bring an order of chips thnks_

 

 Harry feels the confusion like the taste of bile in his mouth. It slowly starts blotting  into his brain. Until he figures it out.

 He's been set up. They've been set up.

 It's so cinematic, Harry hadn't expected it. It feel the tell-tale signs of a frown coming up on his face, but he quickly pushes it down and forces a smile. He makes Louis order a fish and chips for himself and once it arrives, they start talking like nothing had been different. Like Harry hadn't been ducking away from Louis, like they hadn't stopped talking. Like there was nothing wrong.

 Around quarter of an hour later, they were on their second helpings and Harry was midst explaining what had happened last to last Sunday at church. "So, we'd finished everything and Gemma and I were-"

 "Hold up," Louis interrupts. "Gemma was there?"

 Harry waves his hand nonchalantly. "She came down for a weekend and went back to uni right after. Listen to me!" Louis smiles and nods, leans forward and cups his chin in his hand, his eyes are attentive. "Right. Gemma and I went to the pasture behind the church, you know where that is, don't you? 'Cause there's always little calves playing around there and there's butterflies sometimes."

 Louis nods for him to go on. "Hmm."

Harry pauses to laugh and goes back to talking. "But, there were neither there. There were two cows, smack dab in the middle and... and they were going at it!"

Louis chokes on a chip he'd just tried to swallow and jerks up straight. "What?!"

"Yeah!" Harry's so lit with excitement, he doesn't realise he's raising higher and higher in his seat until the latter reaches out and pushes him down. "Obviously, I was shocked and I just stood there 'cause I couldn't move. They were like," he gestures with his hands, the position- one cupped hand over the other. "And they were making weird noises. There I was staring at a real cow ding-dong, right? Gemma was telling me to get a move and she was laughing and laughing, but I couldn't move!"

Louis's face is red with laughter, one of his fists comes down to bang on the table. "Then?"

"Of course, Mum comes out right then," Harry narrates. He has to stop to breath in the middle. People around are glancing at them; confused and irritated. "Basically, she thought I was thoroughly enjoying live sex education. With cows. She was trying to pull me away and I still wasn't coming 'cause I'm stupid. When we got home, I couldn't look her in the eye."

When Harry looks back up, he realises Louis's head on the table, his arms wrapped around it. His shoulders are shaking with laughter. As he sits back up, Harry sees that his eyes are watering and he's trying to gasp in more breath, only ending with coughs. "Oh God, Harry Styles. How do you even exist?"

"You could say that they were doing it like animals."

For a minute second, Louis stops and purses his lips, but immediately slumps his shoulders with a groan. "That was the worst. Harry, that was horrible." He takes a few more moments to get back onto his normal breathing pattern. His canines are still flashing out and his eyes betray back to slits as he swallows back laughter. "I can't believe Liam and Niall are missing this stuff. Whew!"

That makes Harry's smile shrink. He knew that if he didn't come clean now, he would never. He would never be ready to, and then he'd end up bottling it up so much and have it burst out on him. He couldn't have regret added to his long list of factors that contributed to an existential crisis. Years down the line, he knew he would get a taste of that. He's been given a chance- he could deal with the aftermath somehow. The other two had indirectly promised in helping him with that. At least, remorse could be checked off. "That," he starts off without thinking. "Actually... If you hadn't realised... we've been set up. Clearly."

"Set up?"

"Liam and Niall can be such idiots."

"Set us up on what?"

Harry feels like crying out of frustration. "They said we should pull ourselves together and face it."

"Face what?"

"Louis," he chides, his eyebrows furrow. Who was he angry on? Liam and Niall or Louis or himself? "Just- don't ask. Please don't ask me."

The older boy grimaces and then raises both his brows at Harry. His mouth curves out into a smirk. "What exactly are you hinting at, Styles? Are you saying this is a date?"

Harry's ears feel hot. He brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck. "It-It might be."

"Is that so?"

"They were actually doing me a favour," Harry reveals. "Or so they thought."

 Louis's grin hasn't wavered once. "What kind of favour are we talking about?"

 "They want me to put an end to something," he gestures vaguely, pushing away his plate of fish and chips. "They're crazy." 

 "They must be if they set us up on a date," Louis muses.

 Harry shakes his head, huffing out a nervous laugh. "They think we should talk and... That's just pointing out things that aren't there, right?" 

Louis shrugs. "We haven't really been talking as of recent, so I reckon it makes sense." 

"It really doesn't," Harry protests. "They're a pair of buggers is what they are. They haven't given me a heads up and they.... They had a plan that they thought-"

"Harry. Hey, Harry, calm down." Louis leans forward, maintaining confident eye contact. "Enough about them. What do you think?"

He glances at the tabletop and back at Louis sheepishly. He can't believe Louis was being so patient even though he had no clue what Harry was saying; it made him look even larger than the image Harry had constructed for himself. "I don't think it's a good idea. But... I don't know." 

"Well, you won't know until you try out whatever this idea is. Don't keep me in the dark, mate. I don't like it when you lot are conspiring against me."

"We're not conspiring against you! Truth is, they were conspiring against me."

"About?"

Harry chews on his lip for a moment. "Stuff they think they know. Stuff they think I know." It felt wrong to blame it all on Liam and Niall, but he couldn't help it. There wasn't another way he could say it.

Louis's face was now composed of confusion. "And were they right?"

"Most certainly, they were," Harry answers slowly. "But, I'm starting to see why they were correct. It's better to get it over with." He blinks owlishly. "Louis, I like you. Not in a friend of way."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. They hadn't even appeared in his head before he said them. He hadn't thought it through and he felt like his mouth had detached from him. The smile on Louis's face began to melt off as he fathomed the words. For a moment, Harry's ears filled  with a sharp silence that resonated all the way into his brain. He felt like all the fear in the world was sitting on his shoulders. He had never felt so scared in his life, heart hammering out of control and his bones feeling like they were collapsing from their joints. He couldn't breath. "It's a funny story, actually," he starts off. "I swear it wasn't meant to happen. I mean, it has nothing to do with you being gay- it was purely coincidental. And I'm so sorry. Trust me... See, if you don't want to talk to me, it's alright. Just please don't tell anybody else about this. I don't know-"

"Harry- HARRY."

"Huh," he realises Louis is looking at him expectantly. 

Louis laughs nervously, wringing his hands. His cheeks are an alarming red. "I wasn't expecting this, to be honest..." He looks conflicted. "I'm very flattered though, Harry. But-"

He tries not to look uncomfortable. If he left any place for the quiet, it would only get weird. He couldn't afford that anymore. "Just because I'm, um, inclined towards you doesn't mean I wish to pursue anything. It's okay." 

Louis looks relieved at once. A small part of Harry that had hope extinguished itself. "I feel honoured, Harry. You needn't worry." He stops to lick his lips thoughtfully. "Believe me, in a few months you'll meet somebody exciting and I'll just be a blip in the back of your head." 

Harry completely doubts that, but he doesn't say it out loud. "Um..." 

A hand envelopes his own and Louis smiles at him kindly. It's not pity. He's so relieved it's not pity. "It's okay, Haz. It does happen to the best of us." He pats Harry's hand. "We'll get over this. You're a plonker for thinking I'm going to run for the hills just because of that." 

 "Wait, so you'll still talk to me? You're still going to talk to me?" Harry stops breathing for a few seconds. It wasn't possible- anybody in their right mind would cut all connections and leave. What was Louis doing? Why was he being so mature? It felt like someone drove a fist into his abdomen and proceeded to tickle his intestines. 

 Louis laughs gloriously. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. "Not just talk to you. I'll still be your best friend, alright?" He places a few bills under plate and stands up. "Now, stop it with the serious talk. Come get some ice cream with me. I have that employee discount to use." With that, he leads a very puzzled Harry out.

 

 ***

 

It's like it always is.

When Harry arrives at school, nobody's giving him second glances and judgmental looks. He walks through the hallways like he usually does and goes to class like he generally does. There's nobody to taunt him and tease him. No daunting surprise in store for him. Maybe it wasn't all ground-breaking as Harry thought it would be.

 Niall snatches his English homework from his bag (steals is more like it) and Liam is still worrying over not studying for the test and Louis- he's his usual calm and collected self when he comes over with a half smile and slings his arm around Harry's shoulder. Thank god, is all Harry thinks. Relief is all he feels. He feels Liam and Niall's confused gazes on him, but he can ignore that.

 After getting ice-cream with Louis the previous day, he went straight to Liam's house and avoided talking about what had happened till Niall had prodded enough. He thought he would feel relief after pouring everything out to Louis- after talking about his bloody feelings... but he doesn't. Everybody said that. Everybody said if you let it all out, you'd feel better. Harry didn't feel better. In fact, he felt worse.

 The voice in the back of his head teased relentlessly that Louis knew and that would make things different and awkward. Moreover, when he did tell Louis about it, he hadn't told him everything. He hadn't told him that it made him cry and that he couldn't handle or that he felt like dying at times. Somehow, it wasn't enough- he wanted Louis to know. The biggest irony was that; wanting to tell him more, but not feeling good about doing that.

 But, when he sees no glitches in Louis's face when he smiles at him, he knows what Louis said is right. Even though Harry doesn't know if he'll ever get over Harry, he knows they'll be fine. They'll get over it.  

 

***

 

For some reason, Harry feels the need to skip.

Robin had sent him out to get a pack of prawn crackers and he'd gone begrudgingly, demanding more money than usual. He was at the tiny shop at the end of the street when he'd gotten a message from Louis asking him to come by. He'd immediately stuffed the product into the bag he previously shouldered on and sprinted in the other direction. As pathetic as it was, he knew Louis had work on Wednesday evenings, and what was more pathetic was the fact that a mere notification on his phone lifted his spirits.

 The little ice-cream parlour by the road stood where it usually did invitingly. He crossed over and flung the door open once he got to it. A breeze of air greeted his back as it shut behind him. It was a cosy place- two small tables twinned with chairs and a small array of flavours in front. It always smelt like molten chocolate. Sometimes, Louis would come over for studying and the smell would linger on his shirt. Harry never mentioned that he loved it.

 He glances up to see Louis grinning at him behind the counter, beside him was Zayn in a matching attire- black apron and hat. "Hazza, you've come," he breaths.

Harry tries to shrug nonchalantly, but he can feel the corners of his mouth betray him into beaming. "Of course- I mean, yeah. I was doing nothing anyway." He's supposed to be home soon, but who cares.

 Louis hum in reply, then he turns to Zayn. "Will you fill in for me? And not tell?"

 Once upon a time, Harry could feel a sizzle of jealousy when he saw Zayn and Louis interact- it hardly a dull throb now. When he thinks about it, Zayn and him had some great years in their childhood. They'd talk across each other windows and sneak over for sleepovers. At ten years of age, they'd built a custom zip-line from each other's window with a cable wire and a strong coat hanger. It worked a couple of times before Zayn fell down and twisted his ankle. The hanger still hung by his side when Harry looked out. Through the years, they'd gone to different social groups but continued as good friends. The only crack in it all was the fact that Louis had once admitted to have fancied Zayn; but again, that was in Year Eight. And who could ever resist Zayn with the way he looked? 

Zayn nods and exchanges a strange look with Harry. With that, Louis is moving to the end of the counter, simultaneously removing his apron and hat and launching them at the other boy; which Zayn promptly catches. "See ya, mate," Louis says.

He comes forward and snakes an arm around Harry's shoulders, steering him back out the door. "But what about-" Harry starts to say.

"I've just got five minutes of my shift left, it's okay."

 Harry nervously palms the strap of his shoulder bag. "Why'd you want me to come?"

Louis shrugs. "I was bored so I thought why not."

 "You just needed an excuse to get out of there," Harry shoves at him with a breathy laugh. "I need to get home. Give me a lift."

He walks over to a red coloured Vespa and pats the leather seat. "Sure," he says with a smile. He unhinges the seat and pulls out a helmet from inside; and then pulls out a folded jacket from inside the helmet. Louis loved that thing more than anything- he cleaned it before using and right after. He washed it every Sunday at ten and wouldn't let anyone ride it unless he trusted them. He shrugs on the jacket and mounts the front and twists the key into it's slot. Once the engine starts, he nods Harry over, offering him the helmet, "Hop on."

Harry swings his leg over the backseat and tentatively takes the helmet. "Shouldn't you wear this? You're the driver."

Louis glances at him through the left mirror. "And you're the clumsy one. You'll probably fall off in the mid-drive. Safety for you, Curly."

Harry doesn't mean to pout, but he does. "And here I was thinking I should learn how to drive," he grumbles to himself as he buckles the helmet under his chin.

As promised, Louis drives him home steadily. He doesn't go as fast as he usually does and they banter uselessly, shouting over the wind. Louis reaches back to swat him on the leg and Harry scream for him to not let go of the handle- to which Louis cackles. He halts somewhere along the street of Harry's house. He does quite turn around to look at him. "Get off." Harry thinks to argue him into dropping him at his doorstep, but he wordlessly climbs off and comes to stand next in the front. Louis grips the handle and shuffles back until he's in the backseat. "Sit," he says, gesturing to the tiny front seat. "I'll give you a crash course."

Harry's face nearly twitches when he beams jubilantly. "Are you serious?!" He puts one of his legs through to the other side and balances the vehicle by his legs on either sides. Louis slowly removes his hands so Harry's can replace them. He looks down at the array of buttons; the horn, headlight and a bunch of the stuff in awe. "You really trust me? I'll probably make us fall," Harry warns.

"That's why I'm sitting right behind you," Louis supplies.

"Don't blame me later," Harry says flippantly. He looks down and examines the board before him again. "Alright, so what do I do?"

Louis places his hands on the latter's shoulders. (Harry tries not to move erratically at that.) He points to the right handle. "That's the accelerator, you have to move that back." He then points to the left one. "And put a hand on the brake just in case. Those are the only two you have to handle. You'll learn in no time."

Harry takes in a deep breath. Under his sweaty right hand, he twists the handle back and the engine purrs and the scooter jerks forward which makes the both of them fall front. "'M sorry," he murmurs.

"Try again," Louis prompts.

So, Harry twists the handle again, shoulders hurting from being so tense. The scooter flies forward and bounces fitfully. A pair of hands grasp his hips and squeeze. He tries not to gasp out loud, though he feels the muscles in his body pull tight and turn to fluid at once. "I-I... I don't think I'm getting it."

Like the current position wasn't shaking the life out of Harry, Louis shifts even forward till their backs are transplanted together and his chin is resting on Harry's right shoulder. Harry stops breathing; it's better than fighting for the lost breath. He hopes Louis can't feel his skin hardening and his knees shaking. His shoulders continue to hurt from being taut. "Look in the mirror and see if there's any cars coming." When Harry manages to shakes his head in denial, Louis moves his arm and covers Harry's fists with his own.

The steady thoughts in Harry's head shut down with a snap.

Louis benignly twists their hands on the handle and makes sure the scooter moves on a resolute speed. If he feels Harry's heartbeat, he doesn't say anything. "If it slows down and you can't balance, putting your feet out in the air might help you," he says sincerely. "The most important thing is that you understand the power of the accelerator."

Before Harry can say anything, they're before the house and Harry jumps off as quickly as possible; as if he'd been burnt. His mouth is dry and the heartbeat in him is probably reaching it's limit before he could officially die. His neck feels hot and he hopes his ears are not as red as they feel. He forces himself to breath deeply through his nose. Perhaps Louis hadn't realised it, but his head was going haywire. The places previously contact with Louis were now tingling and close to numb. Hadn't Louis realised what effect he had on him?

"I'll see you, then?" Louis smiles disarmingly.

_God, I hate you_ , Harry wants to say. _This is your fault._ "Y-Yeah," he stutters out and dashes to the door.  

 

***

 

November and December come with a blanket of snow. But, it's never not thrilling to look out the window to whiteness. It only means more tea and cookies, more studying under blankets and a lot of puffy winterwear. They enjoy the snowed in days, the meaningless snowball fights, the smelly wet gloves, shovelling the driveways a little too much. Not much is lost to be honest. Instead, it gives more reason to bunk classes and go sledding on the hills at the end of town. Books lay dead in their bags and they're laughing. They laugh and they laugh and they eat snow and the sky laughs with them.

　Before they know it, they've finished their exams with bitten nails and have taken to the warmth shivering was providing. Countless mugs sit everywhere. No good amount of tea and hot cocoa is enough. The blazers have gone and the jumpers have come up. It's only fair for them to take advantage of it all. With the short days and long nights, the term is up in time for the Christmas holidays. Niall and his brother have decided to visit their mother, Liam is going to his granparents' and Louis was unsure. Gemma was coming home and Harry's mum was making quite the feast; it would be only the three of them for the year.　

"Will yeh be here for New Year's?" Niall asks all of a sudden, bending over his notebook. They're in a private study in the last period. Since it was the last day, the teacher ignored the class's chatter and was picking at his nails.

　Liam shrugs, closing his book just as Louis chirps in a yes. "Not sure, mate, let's see."

The three turn to look at him expectantly and that when Harry realises they're waiting for him to answer. "Oh, um. Right. I might. Not sure, though."

Niall looks excited as he speaks. "There's going t'be a party at Steven's. If we're lucky, we can snag a kiss at midnight. If we're luckier- if we end up luckier, we could... get some. Know what I mean?"

Liam snorts. "One track mind, this one."

"Good on you, Nialler," Louis congratulates. "He's the only one with a healthy mind of a seventeen year old."

"If that's what you call healthy," Liam replies.

Like it's clockwork, the bell rings and all the students stand up and scurry away from their seats with their books tucked under his arms. They pay no heed to the teacher yelling from the front of the classroom. "The homework will be sent to your email ID's, I expect them to be on my desk by... oh, nevermind," he seems to give up when he notices everyone barrelling out hurriedly.

All of them gather their belongings separately and meet up outside by the bicycle stand. Most of the ground is a mix of sleet and dirt and there's a distinct sound of students talking around them. Snippets of conversations catch Harry's frozen ears under his beanie. Louis and Niall are already chatting by the time Harry comes out while tugging on his gloves and merely a second later, Liam joins them. Once Louis notices all of them, he brings his bag over his shoulder and unzips it. He throws a medium sized box at Liam, who catches it dazedly. "That's your Christmas pressie, Payno. Be happy." He reaches in and produces a larger box and hands it to Niall. "And this is for you. Happy Christmas, don't bother me for the whole of next week."

"Wicked!" Niall promptly begins to unwrap his gift with a large grin.

"Thanks, Tommo," Liam stuffs his own inside his bag. 

Louis waves them away nonchalantly. "No biggie, lads," he turns towards Harry who's looking at him quizzically. Like he's waiting for his own present. "I'll give you yours in private, okay? I'll be by the scooter, if you catch up on time we can practice driving again." He skips backward, beaming sweetly. "I'll be waiting!" He turns back and prances away without a goodbye.

Harry felt as if he had grown a pair of wings. He was going to take flight until Liam's hand clamped down on his forearm. He was grounded at once and turned to look at the older boy with a flustered look. "Huh?"

Liam grimaced, eyes dubious. "Harry... I don't think this is a good idea."

"What isn't a good idea?"

"You, erm, fraternising with Louis."

Harry blinks at him. "Haven't I always... fraternised with Louis?"

"Yeah, but. Doing it now would not be ideal."

The confusion didn't help Harry any further. "Doing what, Liam?"

"Look," Liam starts off with a sigh. "I know we said you should talk to Louis about everything. And we were wrong about him- about him feeling the same. You're saying the both of you aren't, you know, involved. After all that, I don't think you being alone with him is..." he trails off.

"In private, eh?" Niall parrots. Harry had momentarily forgotten he was there.

Harry shakes his head vehemently. "He has no problem with being alone with me. I don't understand why you do." Then, he understands what Liam had been implying. "I'm not going to pounce on him or anything, you know."

"Oh god, no, Harry-"

"I don't get it," he shakes his head again, snorting. "You've been pushing me around with your suggestions. I've done everything you said, because carpe bleeding diem, right?" A sad smile pulls at his lips. "I don't get it, Liam. He's still my friend. He's still talking to me. I don't know what you understood, but after everything he's still talking to me. I'm happy."

"I know you are, Harry."

"Then, why can't you act it," Harry bursts out. "Why can't you leave me be?"

Niall warns, "Harry, listen to him."

"Because he's leading you on!" Liam shouts suddenly. His face is red and his eyes are ablaze. Around them, a few people turn to look at the commotion and go back to their business almost immediately. "You would know that if you got your head out of the clouds for one bloody second."

It leaves Harry absolutely shell-shocked. He had always seen Louis in one angle, he certainly didn't know what they looked like to outsiders. Liam could be correct. "I can take care of myself. You can take that protectiveness and shove it up where it's supposed to be," he replies coldly.

Liam's anger melts off his face, only to be replaced with resentment. "You said it yourself, Harry. You want to be happy. I want the same. I'm just trying to make sure... that you don't get hurt. Alright? That's my only intention." He scrubs his face with a hand, muttering, "You're my little brother. I don't want you to be hurt because you can't see it."

"C'mon, both of you," Niall intercepts. "Don't leave it like this. Not right before the hols. Apologise to each other."

It's not much of a surprise when Liam pulls him into a tight embrace. He apologises profusely until Harry cuts in with his own apology. They pull away and share a smile while Niall claps him on the back. As they part and say their goodbye's, Liam's words are still ringing in his head.

 

***

 

As usual, Harry's epiphanies hit him like a freight train.

This one was like that too. He made of job pushing everything he thought of under the rug and, then- all of a sudden, it's flashing before his eyes with a metaphorical neon sign that's hard to ignore. He could pinpoint the exact moment he felt it- when he felt the realisation wash over him and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. He was always an idiot at these kid of things.

He remembers it too vividly, it had been brandished into his memory with quite a shock. It was March First of last year, Harry was handling the commotion at the library and the hard work that The Literature Club had set up for the day. It was World Book Day and all the volunteering students were scattered in doing different things, for their school treated it like a national holiday. However, he could no longer take Niall grumbling about it next to him.

Liam was giving a small presentation about Shakespeare and Louis was doing the manual work; sticking posters, flyers on the notice boards- something the teachers had given him so he wouldn't cause a rampage from not having anything to do. But, Harry knew he was only happy that there was no studying to do that day.

It was too sudden; a student rushing into the library- words blurry and arms moving blurrier. The room had become deadly quiet and all Harry had comprehended was 'Louis' and 'stepladder' and 'unconscious'. He ran out as fast as his heavy legs carried him, Niall at his heels. The corners of his vision became unclear and he trip from corridor to corridor until he found a hallway where a crowd of students were circled around something, a few teachers shouting over them. A crippled stepladder leaned against the wall.

His heart was too loud for his ears and his thoughts were too fast for him and he wasn't him and he didn't remember. He didn't remember fighting past the crowd, or falling before Louis's limp form on the ground. He didn't remember shaking Louis and the raw sobs that tore out of him every time he didn't get a response. All he could remember was thinking _please please be alright please just be alright I love you please be okay please please._

Louis was later diagnosed with a concussion. When he came back four days later, he didn't know anything. He didn't know that Niall had to take Harry into a classroom and calm him down from shouting, from stopping himself from breathing. He didn't know why Harry couldn't look him in the eye for a few weeks after that. 

 

***

 

That night, Harry doesn't fall asleep quickly. He rolls around in his bed that's too small for him that it has his feet hanging off of it. He doesn't have the heart to inform to his mother who was already stressing out over the upcoming plans of hers and Robin's wedding. However, his mind does not ease away from Liam's words- the ones he had said merely hours ago when they left school for the year.

_He's leading you on._

It plays over and over again in his head. He had come to trust Louis so much, especially after that unfortunate day when Harry vomited all his feelings. There was not much chance that Louis was doing it on purpose. He wasn't like that- he wasn't heartless. Harry had learnt that in the years he's known the boy. Perhaps, Louis just couldn't tell what effect he had on Harry, or didn't know where exactly the line of a platonic or romantic relationship stood. Perhaps Liam just thought -no assumed- that they were teetering dangerously on that line.

There was no way they weren't like they usually were. Harry was aware that since he held certain feelings towards Louis, everything that happened between them felt amplified- like he was looking at everything through a magnifying glass. Like he was turning over every word and gesture Louis had directed towards him. 

Liam definitely noticed them. He _observed_ them. Harry was thankful that Liam had his back, but Liam was thoroughly overlooking it. There was nothing there. With that on his mind, he finally falls asleep by the time the moon is glistening over his face.

But, something wakes him merely an hour later.

He can tell since he's a light sleeper. His bedroom doors creaks open eerily and there's a soft sound of feet padding in. He assumes it's Gemma coming to crawl into bed with him. But, instead, Louis appears from behind the wall.

Harry has to blink and drive his knuckles into his eyes. He must be dreaming again. He can still see Louis- he's in a pair of pyjamas and a ragged t-shirt. He doesn't realise it's all real until Louis strides forward and cups his hand over Harry's mouth; it sends him into shock as he jumps. "Shh," Louis whispers. "Keep quiet. Everyone's asleep."

Harry mumbles against the hand. He wrenches away the grip with his own two hands. "What are you doing here?!" He says breathlessly, yet frantically.

"I came to give you your Christmas present. I told you I would give it to you, remember? We're leaving to me stepdad's tomorrow. Might not get to see you till the New Year."

Harry just stares at him as he sits up on the edge of the bed. "You came... to give me my Christmas present. At this late in the night."

Louis shrugs. "I had to wait till I heard Mum's snores."

"How did you get in?"

"Your mum leaves the kitchen door unlocked," Louis smirks. It's a good look on him in the darkness with the meagre moonlight bathing him. One side of his face is illuminated, and he looks so goddamn handsome that it seems like he's an illusion. "Originally, I thought of climbing up to the window. But, what if you locked your window? Plus, I was knackered enough from running all the way here."

"You ran all the way... for my present. My kitchen door is- what-"

"Oh shush, you," Louis chides. He unshoulders a bag that Harry hadn't noticed was there. He sits down beside Harry and makes work of undoing the zip and pulls out a large package with a small package taped on top. "Here. It's not much, but you're welcome."

Harry hesitantly takes the large item and places it in his lap. He looks up at the other boy. "Do I open it now?"

"I'd prefer if you did."

So, Harry neatly tears the small attachment and places it on his bedside table. The larger present has an abundance of tape on it, and though he feels like ripping it all away. He fitfully tears all the tape away with his nails and is panting under his breath by the time he's gotten to the wrapping. He can feel Louis looking at him apologetically from the corner of his eye, but he plunges on till the paper has made way. Once it's come into view, he realises into a fairly large leather bound book. The cover is worn grey and is cold and smooth when he runs his fingers over it; it reads _Victorian Language Of Flowers_ in fading gold on the front.

"I know new books have a nice smell, but these kind of books are nice when they're old. It gives it character, you know," Louis explains.

Harry doesn't say anything as he flips through the book. It isn't in a pristine condition; which was what made the book special. The pages are a yellowing parchment and the words of calligraphy run downwards along with the watercolour paintings of each flower. Apparently every flower had meaning. It's so thoughtful that it makes Harry's chest seize up. "Louis," he chokes out. "This is so..." he looks up and hopes he can be somehow understood. "Thank you so much."

Louis shrugs casually, but it's clear he's glowing from the praise. "I saw it a while ago and it made me think of you. You and your stupid gardening. I mean, your gardening isn't stupid. It's stupid how much you love it." He shifts uncomfortably and Harry is torn between hugging him and just staring at him. "Nothing is stupid actually. My bad. I'm stupid."

Harry picks up the smaller package and lets himself rip it open. "You got me seeds too?" He spreads out sachets of Tuberose, Peach Blossom, Morning Glory and Larkspur. Louis shrugs once again. Harry shakes his head and stands up only to reach under the bed to produce his own present for Louis. He hands it to him with a large grin. "And this is yours. Go home and open it."

Louis slides it into his bag with suspicion on his face. "A jumper?"

"Nothing with Christmas patterns on it," Harry promises. "You'll like it. And there's something else as well."

"Your brownies?"

Harry chuckles under his breath. "I'll make those for you when you get back."

Louis cheers and grins so wide, Harry feels like his own cheeks are hurting. He slings his bag over his  shoulder as he stands up. For a moment, Louis leans in and freezes midway- then, he dips in and presses a kiss to Harry's cheek. When he stands up straighter, he continues beaming like he hadn't seen Harry shudder and ignores the way Harry is clenching his fists from bursting. "I'll try your window this time," he says with a wink and he opens the window and climbs out on the roof and slides down a pipe fluidly.

Perhaps not fluidly, but Harry can't tell. His brain is scattered somewhere and his bones are going to fall into a heap at the bottom of his body. Was he still breathing? He can feel himself wave goodbye as Louis begins to run while ducking from the drizzle- his footsteps a blind white noise in Harry's ears. His cheek was burning like a piece of coal had touched him and not Louis. Louis's lips. He wouldn't sleep if he went there now.

After collecting himself ten minutes later, he places all the seed sachets next to their respective pages in the book, closes it and places it on his desk. He reads the meanings but forgets them by the time he climbs into bed and falls asleep with a smile on his face. _Dangerous pleasure_ and _I'm your captive_ and _affection_ and _an open heart_. He's a fool for not realising, but he doesn't know that. 

 

***

 

 Harry finds out over dinner that Robin's brother is feeling poorly. The immediate next thing he finds out is that since he is of old age, his mum and stepdad must go see him at once. It's a bit concerning to Harry as a human-being, but he doesn't know the man to have something heart-felt. He says his condolences and goes back to chewing his jacket potato. The only thing he was actively anticipating was the tart he'd smelt when he came home -dessert, probably- so that he could shovel it down and get some sleep.

 What he wasn't expecting was that they decided to leave Harry at a friend's house.

When he learns of this, he fights back and says he can stay home alone for a couple of days by himself. It was fair; he could cook and clean up after himself. The worst thing he would probably do is slack off from studying. But, his mother cut in with her own protectiveness, claiming she wasn't going to leave him in empty house. He was beginning to hate being treated like a child. Everybody's parents left them to go somewhere and here Harry was. It was annoying.

The options were their neighbours (he hated crabby old Mrs Norman and her barking dog. She had a permanent scowl ever since he plucked out her petunias when he was eight) and another family friend (he had kissed their daughter for the kicks of it and never ended up talking to her again) and both of them weren't on Harry's list.

The next morning, Harry asks Liam who sheepishly answers that they were fixing a leaky roof. Though his mother hadn't mentioned Zayn's, Harry knew asking him would not be of use; their house was already full.

"You can come, mate," Niall informs him when he asks. "I'm pretty sure Da doesn't care. He thinks you're a good influence, anyway." So, the only thing left was convincing his mother. That wasn't an easy task. Harry's mother was quite strict in a few matters.

During lunch hour, Louis sidles up next to him and nudges him with an elbow as they join the line for their servings. "Pay for me? I'll pay you back," he says like he usually does. Louis always blew his lunch money on unnecessary things and Harry couldn't understand what; it hardly one and half quid. He nonetheless rolls his eyes and does it. When they get to their seats, Liam and Niall are chattering away passionately about something and don't even look up on their arrival. Once they've settled down, Louis tilts his head at him. "Niall told me you need a place for a couple of days?"

Harry glances at the mentioned person, only to see that he hadn't moved a muscle from Liam's interest. He shrugs in reply. "Mum and Robin have something and they don't want to leave me alone in the house. It's dumb."

"Stay with me."

Harry looks away from his strange looking pasta and up at him. "Sorry?"

Louis gestures nonchalantly, hand waving in the air. "My mum would love it if you came."

"I love your sisters honestly but, I hate to say I won't have space with them around."

"There's five of us, it'll hardly make a difference with one more."

Harry shakes his head and tries to tune into the other heated conversation, but can only think about rejecting Louis's offer. "Absolutely not, Niall's already taken it up."

"That's because you didn't ask me first!" Louis protests. The other two pause to look at them, but quickly go back to talking loudly amongst themselves. "Come on, I'll let you take my bed."

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. "And where will you sleep?"

"Beside you."

A sour taste starts to fill his mouth and he's no longer hungry. He pushes his tray away and loosens his tie, dragging the knot away from his neck, but his throat doesn't stop feeling tight. Perhaps Liam was right, he starts to think. He should have listened. Perhaps, Louis is actually leading him on. It's starting to make sense. Liam has been right and wrong in many situations, but this definitely like it was a right. "I can't, I'm sorry," he says swiftly. He stands up and scurries out of the dining hall as fast as he can.

But, Louis is catching up with him, joining his pace nearly a minute later. He pants to keep up, but does it triumphantly. "Hey. Hey. Harry. Harry, wait up," he breathes. "What's wrong, did I do something?"

"No," Harry quips. "Nothing. I'm just not hungry. I'll see you in a bit, I need to go to the loo."

"I'll come with," Louis offers.

Harry feels like his chest is burning. He stops to let Louis puncture his steps beside him and looks up at Louis's disgruntled blue eyes. Why was Louis so concerned? Why did he have to care so much? Why did he have to be nice? He doesn't think when he says it. He never does, really. The words come out without going through his brain when he's nervous, and he hates that about himself. "Look, Louis. You aren't allowed to do that," he says sharply. "You aren't supposed to accompany me everywhere or be nice to me or care about me, alright? You're _not_ supposed to be calling me for sleepovers.

"I like you, don't you get it? I like you not like a friend, and I told you that. I did tell you that. You're supposed to step back. I'm trying so hard let whatever's left to be intact and you're not supposed to treat me the same! You're supposed to keep your distance and draw a line and... And you're not supposed to be a same with me." He stops to catch a breath, wincing at himself. He's said it all and he's nothing short of an idiot. He clenches his hands into fists and lets out a sigh. "Just. Do that before I lose my mind."

When he look up, Louis's face is chalk white and he looks like he's been slapped. Mustering all the strength he can, Harry walks on, away from the other boy, neck stiff. He tries not to look back. For once, he can control himself.

 

Then comes the ignoring. Harry managed to persuade his mum into letting him stay home alone. But, he wasn't aware that he was professionally good at avoiding Louis. For the next two days, he learns to duck away and not look at the older lad. He walks in opposite directions, makes smiling conversations with acquaintances he doesn't know how he met, runs home with a vehement Zayn.

He knows he was wrong for blowing up on Louis that way, but he has enough pride to not apologise for it. In his mind, it feels right to tell Louis off that way. Whether or not he was being led on, it was still driving him crazy and he knew there would come a time when he'd turn to ash merely by looking at the other boy. He was also slightly ashamed at how horribly he'd acted, how everything went reverse from how he'd planned himself to be. He'd practised to be calm and collected for Louis, but when it came practically, he was nothing but a torso, a head and two pairs of flailing limbs. That and a whole world of words that made no sense.

Niall and Liam have noticed, but they simply exchange glances like they always do and don't say anything. They probably expect it to be like any other time. Them fighting, making up almost immediately because they've always been attached, right? Couldn't be far away from each without being pulled back together. It's horrible that they've got this generalisation. Harry loathes the fact that they'd fallen into a routine that he had disrupted.

However, just after those two days and another, Harry had quit his usual stress-busting practice of weed-whacking for a little bit of proper gardening. He'd found a line of moist soil along the lining of the fence and dived into it with some old clothes he'd thrown on and his gardening tools. He grabbed the recent sachets of tuberose and larkspur and left them on the ground while he produced the hose and watered all the plants, humming under his breath.

Around twenty minutes later, Harry was seated in the soil, hands and feet smothered with dirt and headband (from his sister's drawer) strapped to his head to keep his curls away. His paled out yellow shirt was now grimy and too-short shorts were tearing away at the edges like they did every time he wore them. He didn't have the gloves this time and he probably smelt grotesque and he was disgusting.

As if choosing the correct moment of Harry's struggle, the gate opens with a metal creak and Harry has to twist back and to the right to see- only to find a frowning Louis, paused in his tentative steps.

Harry whips his head back to the soil, trying to push away the furrow building on his brows. "Come in," he calls out with a shaky voice. What was he doing here? Was he here to cut all connections with Harry?

Louis's footsteps on the pavement and then on the earth become softer and clearer until he's right behind him. "Harry, I..."

"Sit," Harry pats the place next to him in the short-cut grass. When Louis complies, there's a charged second right after which Harry can tell that Louis wants to discuss something, that he wants to say something that's crucial. But, he speaks before he can give the other a chance. "Here," he thrusts a seed sachet into his clean hands. "Open that."

Louis freezes and goes to rip open the paper and shake some out into his palm. "There," he points out. While Harry is handling the shovel, he starts once again.

"Listen-"

"Drop one each here," Harry panics to say. He sounds maniacal as he points erratically to the series of holes he's made. Though Louis is blatantly frustrated, he allows himself to follow the instruction. 

"Will you-"

Harry makes a brisk job of gathering the soil back and pushes his own shovel into Louis's hand. "Pat them. They need to be watered." He can feel his ears grow hot and the blood rushing through his body go out of control. They had to talk, didn't they. But, how was he supposed to do that? He bites his lip down from saying anything, stares at his clasped hands resting in his lap.

 Meanwhile, Louis springs up and out to pat the soil as nippily as he can. He drops the shovel beside him and turns to face the younger lad. "Harry..." he begins. When he doesn't get an answer, he repeats it with urgency in his voice. "Harry."

"What?" Harry manages to bite out, glaring up at Louis.

Louis peers at him for a long moment, the cogs turning in his brain in way that Harry wants to know. He forces out air through his nose and shakes his head like he can't believe it. Like he can't believe Harry. There's hardly a second; it's not even a second. Just a nip in time, a small pinprick when Harry realises it. He's ready and he's not ready- but there it is. Louis dips in and kisses him.

Harry can feel his face crumple, he can't really tell anything. Like he was always expecting it, his awaiting lips move just as insistently against Louis's. Was this a taste? He couldn't tell if it was something he knew or something he'd discovered. He couldn't tell if this was another one of this daydreams, if he'd gone too far again. But, it hits him at speed; this isn't a fantasy. This makes his daydreams look tame. It blows everything he's ever known right out of the water. He's drowning and drowning and there's air in his lungs that refuses to become breath. It's not real, it's  _so_ not real.

This couldn't possibly be real. Harry in his shabby self, doing his stupid gardening and why exactly would Louis come for him in that state? He makes sure by bringing his hands up and cupping the other face- and wow. There's skin. Soft skin that leads down to a slender neck and _goddammit_ , Harry wants to find those ears.

Alas, there was new information to stored. Louis had fast lips that manipulated the control out of Harry, he felt himself losing it as he sagged forward. A pair of hands came to rest at his bare knees and a shiver ran up his spine. His hair wasn't as soft as Harry had imagined to be, but that was good. Because that was exactly what brought him out. He had to breath. He wasn't breathing, or was he.

He can barely keep his eyelids from shutting when pulls away, looking at Louis up from his heavy eyes. He licks his lips just to make sure and drinks in how the older boy looks; dishevelled hair and a rosy mouth that panted softly. _God_ , was all Harry could think. "D-Do you want to... Do you want to go inside?" He manages to ask after stringing out a sentence in his muddled brain. 

Louis slowly shakes his head. There's soil from Harry's hands on his cheeks- he looks glorious. His gaze lingers on Harry's mouth. A knot loosens up inside Harry. He reluctantly pulls his eyes up to Harry's and says oh so softly. "Here is fine." He shuffles forward from the uncomfortable position they were probably in and... He reels Harry back in with eager hands.

Harry lets himself be kissed- slow and keen and with disguised exuberance with just a pinch of anxiousness. People could walk by and see them or his parents could come home; but he couldn't care less. This wasn't a kiss that was supposed to go down in history, this was a kind that was meant to live on.       

 

***

     

Love was always lazy. At least, that's what Harry assumed it was.

It drizzled down in a soft syrupy way that made you want to blink as laggard as one can. It was letting the world go up in chaos and cruelty and lying in your bubble; the little space where time changed it's course and everything else paused itself for them. It was being splayed out on the bed, watching each other; no talking and letting their breath speak for them. It's making a million years out of a two-second kiss. It's what Harry had always thought it was.

Louis was everywhere, up in his space exactly the way Harry hated to admit that he liked. It was hot and heavy and their eyes never left each other and Louis tried too hard to not touch him. His fingers reached out, skittered back, clenched, pinched his own. It made Harry flustered and beam to himself abashedly.

The kisses never stopped. Harry thought that they had a moment in his garden that was supposed to break at some point, but the moment pushes itself into another and another and another. If it was gone, it promised one more in the way Louis looked at him. And, hands- there were everywhere. In his hair, pinching his shoulders, down the dip of his back, dancing on the top of his thighs, squeezing his wrists. He felt like he had been touched everywhere- or maybe that was just himself. The buzz travelled all over his body till he couldn't really differentiate.

He is there in the classroom, smiling over Liam's head, He is there to pull them into the cloakroom and snog him senseless under all the coats. He's there to encourage anything with a squeeze of their hands, which Harry pretends it doesn't feel like it's his own heart that feels like it's being squeezed. He holds Harry's gaze steadily, like he's not afraid, like he's claiming what's meant to be claimed. He's coming home with Zayn and Harry. They do homework on the dining table when there's nobody but them and Harry explains differentiation and Louis's too busy staring at him to even listen- and they're kissing again.

It's nice like this; they don't tell anyone. They skirt around and duck into places where no one can see them and Louis opens up every time the door closes. The secret aspect of it all is what Harry thinks is thrilling. They don't talk about it, and Harry loves that. He's confident in smiling again and lets himself enjoy it when he realises Louis isn't insisting on talking about whatever it is. Louis had needs and Harry was happy to attend to them but, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to know the reasons or the explanations when they could be doing something else with their mouths.

The reality is that...What if he finds out something he doesn't want to? What if he finds out Louis doesn't want him the way he wants Louis? He's gone through enough turmoil and rejection to be shot of it this time. He'd rather not take the risk. The thing is- he's gotten a taste of Louis. There was no going back after this. Harry didn't want to go back. He'd gotten a glimpse of it with Louis and he wasn't able to think about not having it again, much less let it actually happen. He couldn't turn away from the phenomenon that is Louis Tomlinson, he's only human.

Harry decides love isn't lazy. At least, not with Louis. With Louis it's rushing and accelerating and it doesn't stop, and he figures it never will.

 

***

 

His wake-up call rings on a Thursday lunch hour, eleven days later.

Niall keeps stealing his apricot and lamb curry from next to him when he thinks he's not looking and Liam seems to be reviewing one of the questions from the test they had previously written. He seems to not care that the other three were not even listening. Harry was at least, nodding occasionally to keep up the pretence and let him feel bad. When he looks across the table to Louis, he's chewing indifferently and when he realises Harry's looking at him, he smiles lopsidedly and pairs it with a cheeky wink.

Out of nowhere, Niall jumps up and flies over the table to catch Louis's chin in his hand. "Louis! What's this?" He pokes at a red bruise on the side of this pale neck, that was poorly hidden by his collar.

Louis winces and jerks his collar tighter against his neck. "A bug bite."

Liam stops speaking to himself and leans towards him to peer over his shirt. "I can certify that it isn't. Your skin isn't raised... It looks more like a bruise," he points out with suspicion.

Louis slides farther away, matching his anxious gaze to Harry's. "None of your business now, is it?"

Niall cheers, howling with happy laughter and puts on a crooked smile. "Get in! Who's it from? Who's the lucky bloke?"

"Like I said, not your business."

"It wasn't there in the morning," Niall carries on. He doesn't seem to realise that Harry was growing wary beside him. "You absolute dog! You snuck around between classes!" He whips towards Harry. "You would know, right? Who is he shagging? I'm tellin' ya, it's one of his footie mates. I can bet on it-"

Harry fish-mouths for a brief moment before Liam hisses, "Niall!"

"What's his name? Andrew? Andreas? I get it, mate, he's right fit is what he is. Who wouldn't want a bite of that?" He exclaims with animated gestures, bouncing in his seat. "How was it? Is he a top or a bottom? I suppose he looks like a top, but who knows, right? Except you. Louis, you know. Doesn't he have a girlfriend? Ooh, is he-"

"It wasn't Adrian! Shut up," Louis says sternly at once. He twitches from Harry's gaze, but avoids looking at him. Anger was accenting the twist of his mouth and his brows. "It doesn't matter. It's none of your business. If I'm comfortable, I would tell you. If I want to, I would tell you."

"Jaysus, Louis," Niall says, taken aback. Though it looked like his mistake, it was simply the way Niall was; invasive and too caring, too enthusiastic. Used to the way Louis generally indulged him with a smirk, he looks like he's done something too wrong. "I'm sorry, mate."

Louis sighs and glances shortly at Liam before fixing his piercing eyes on Niall. Almost like he was completely ignoring Harry. "It doesn't matter, really. It's nothing. He, erm-" he stops to shake his head to himself. Harry watches in apprehension to see if Louis will reveal it all. If he'll say what Harry wants him to say. If Harry was still being strung along with something he didn't sign up. But, it seems like he's been wrong with the way Louis is ducking away from looking at him. "He," he starts finally. "He doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

Harry doesn't understand why disappointment blooms inside him. He should have expected this. Somehow that doesn't really make the feeling of wanting to cry dissipate.  

 

***

 

His knuckles were growing white from clutching onto his knees so tight. Harry tries to pay no heed, resting his head on them and letting his chest cave from being bent over. The shadow of the squeezed clouds fell through the window and washed the tips of his toes in a grey hue. The wall behind him was getting colder despite having sat there for more than twenty minutes. He couldn't get up and pull on a jumper. He didn't want to.

He wanted to just sit there and do nothing. Perhaps daydream into anything but the now. It was something he was good, something he frequently did. But now when he closed his eyes, he hated that his mind couldn't weave out stories that it usually did. Pitch black was all he could come up with. He wanted to think of all the insignificant things; the things that made the most sense. He didn't want to think about how hungry he was or how much studying he had left to do or Louis. Louis. Most of all, he didn't want to think about Louis. His stupid smile or his clever hands or his bony shoulders. He had placed Louis on a pedestal so high, it was pathetic.

Louis had infiltrated into every aspect of Harry's life. He was filled into every nook and corner, bled into everything Harry saved for his own. Harry let him; he felt so stupid. What was left to call his own? His tendency to take midnight walks? Louis was there to sneak him out on time. His brownie making sprees? Louis had snagged the recipe from him. His therapeutic gardening? Louis had contributed to that. His habit of singing in the shower? Louis encouraged him by joining in from the outside. Nothing. He had nothing. He had Louis all the way inside. It couldn't get worse than that.

He sighs to himself and throws his head back against the wall. Right then, his ears perk up at the sound of footsteps. Ready to tell his mother off, he waits until it reaches the inside of his room. When he lowers his gaze, he finds Louis paralysed in his steps, eyes on each other. "Get out," Harry blurts out.

"Harry-"

"Get. Out."

Louis strides forward rebelliously. He stops short of a metre away from Harry's bed. "You've been crying," he points out.

"No, I haven't," he's quick to cover up. When Louis raises his eyebrows, he stumbles over his words. "You know what? I don't need to explain myself to you. They're my eyes. I can do what I wish with them."

Louis lets out a soft laugh, coming closer. His knees touch the bedframe and Harry gulps down hard. "That's the most stupid thing I've heard." Harry huffs and looks away. "I really am sorry. I've been phoning you since afternoon, but you aren't picking up."

"I don't have my phone with me," Harry immediately quips. Louis makes it a point to bring out his phone and look through it. Barely a second later, Harry's back pocket is buzzing insistently. He glares at Louis and looks away. "I don't want to talk to you," he says stubbornly.

Louis tucks his phone back into his pocket and moves to sit on the edge of the bed; not even a few inches away from Harry. The smell of his sweat and deodorant reaches Harry's nose and he tries not to think about it. "I told you I'm sorry for today, Haz. I-" he halts and swallows. "I didn't know what you wanted. If...If you wanted me to tell them. Or what you wanted me to tell them."

Harry then looks straight at him, trying not to glower. "That's not what I- that isn't. It isn't it."

"Then, what? What else have I done?"

There wasn't a place where they could start. Harry should have thought it out and talked about it before it grew into a mushroom cloud in his brain. He wasn't good at it, though. He wasn't good at doing that and it was coming back to bite him. "It isn't what you did. It's just, I don't," he winces at himself. He hopes there isn't fear in his eyes as he continues to look at the older boy. "Louis, what are we doing? What is this? This... why?"

Louis shakes his head, inching his hand over to Harry's, trying to mask his disappointment when the latter pulls it away abruptly before they can touch. "I thought you knew, babe. I thought-" he sighs with his eyes closed. "You don't like talking about things. There were so many circumstances when I'd bring something up and you'd immediately want to drop it. I didn't know how to tell you... and I was trying to without saying it. I thought you understood."

It doesn't go through Harry's head. His bottom lip wobbles and he tries not cry. "I don't understand. What did I do to you? I-I should have seen this coming." He looks up at Louis with glassy eyes. "It's because it's so easy, right? I'm so easy, aren't I?"

Louis shudders as if he's been electrocuted. "Easy? That's what you think this is about? You think you're easy?" He laughs self deprecatingly. "You think you're easy, Harry? You and easy? You aren't easy. You're anything but easy." He looks like he might go up in flames. The vein in the side of his neck has stuck out and one of his hand is clenched into a fist by his side. "You always have your walls up. You have these bloody boundaries that you say aren't there, but someone puts one toe in, you push them as far away as you can." His eyes are wide, a kind of exhausted anger burning in them. His voice is on the edge of falling into something broken. "You don't let anybody close, it's... it's infuriating, yeah?" He grits his teeth. "Here I am trying so hard to make you see, that," he shakes his head. "I don't even know how you think, Harry. I need to know what's in your head. I can't take anymore chances. We've crossed that stage."

"I can't just let you into my head," Harry cries out. "I've let you into parts I wouldn't show anybody. I've let you in completely. Please, just let my head be. I'm an idiot. I'm such an idiot."

"Why would you think that?" Louis argues. "Harry. What do you think I've done?"

Harry shakes his bent head. "It's perfect for you, isn't it? You want a no-strings-attached, and I'm willing to give myself up because I'm weak when it comes to you. That was the plan, wasn't it?"

When Harry looks up, he regrets saying anything at all. Louis's face is screwed up in pain, there is a flash of something in his eyes before he glances away. "That's brilliant. Funny how if that was true, I would have had sex with you a long time ago." He exhales shakily. "Is that what I made it to be or is that what you think it is?"

Harry's breath stutters. Of course, he had made an assumption. But there was no excuse for it to be not real. Neither was it a reason to be real. "Louis, I-"

"I've been trying to tell- or rather, I've been trying to not tell you, because you don't talk about things, do you? You want to go with the flow with everything. I was beginning to lose my resolve, though. I wanted to come here and- and ask you to be my boyfriend."

Just as the last word comes out of Louis's mouth, Harry is stunned into silence. Bewilderment grows inside him unfathomably, making his quiver. As much as he had been hoping for Louis to say something like that, he did not expect it. Hence, he had been inching away from the beginning. "I... didn't know that..."

"Of course, you didn't," Louis chuckles sadly. He reaches to tap a finger against Harry's temple. "You're daft, aren't you?" He pinches his lips together, seriousness sitting on his brows. "After you- we talked at the chippy that day, I thought about... and it really made sense to me, Harry. I realised I kind of see you in the same way too." He shrugs and beams bashfully, the corners of his lips trembling. His neck is flushed a bright colour. "And I've been trying to convey that as elusively as I can but you just wouldn't get it."

Harry lets his legs slink down and crosses them. He feels his hands shake by his sides. His ears seem like they're vibrating and the eerie feeling carries on into him. It takes him a few tries to open his mouth. "Louis..."

"I know what you feel is...vast. The way you look at me, it makes me want to- combust, y'know? But, if you could give me a chance, I want to find out how much... I can feel for you. Or if I can ever stop feeling like that. As your boyfriend." Harry can wait no longer, he stretches forward and covers the latter's hand with his own. Louis startles at the touch, matches his gaze with dubious eyes. He tilts his head with a despondent smile. "I'm sorry, Harry Styles, but I really like you."

Harry nods with all the strength he can muster up. His insides are sagging down into a puddle. He chokes out, "C'mere," he nods him over. He watches Louis's shimmery eyes turn to slits as he clambers into Harry's lap, arms winding around his neck. He obscures his face into Harry's hair. "I swear I'll talk more. I'll tell you everything. I won't keep anything to myself," he whispers and hopes Louis understands.

Louis peels away from him, smiling brightly before he dips in and seals their lips together. Harry feels the breath leaving him, punched right back inside with surprise. He tries to think, but everything has turned to fluid in his mind. Hands grip the side of his face, that trail lusciously down his shoulder and down to his waist. He can't even tell if he'd been breathing or not by the time Louis pulls away. "Can we do the whole fancy first date dinner thing? I've already booked us in for tomorrow evening. I can convince you mum if I have to."

Harry laughs, and reaches around to pinch Louis on his waist when his phone goes off with a message. He pulls it out from his back pocket and opens it up.

 

_**Zayyyyyn:** FINALLY. i thought i was gonna to die from all that tension. :-P_

 

Louis peeks at his phone and furrows his eyebrows. "What-" then another text comes through.

 

_**Zayyyyyn:** ur curtains r open aha_

 

At once, both of them wrench their heads at the window right next to them. Harry had completely forgotten their windows were parallel to each other. He sees a shirtless Zayn waving enthusiastically from the other window. He's dazed for a moment, but Louis gets off, flips a 'V' at the grinning boy and snaps the curtain shut. He turns to Harry with laughter in his eyes. He doesn't hear what Louis says; just watches his lips move. His mind has finally stopped running and all the daydreams can be damned for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun with the angst. It was supposed to be 4K words, but oh well. Probably going to edit this 68949 years later.  
> Writing this was very therapeutic for me. I listened to 'Nobody Like You' by Little Mix while I came up with this. It's a perfect song to cry to.
> 
> Also, thanks to N. You know who you are. You spurred me on without knowing you did. I love you even though you think shark porn exists. x
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading. Feedback is appreciated! x


End file.
